Record of Book Fund Work, 1879

INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

Dear Friends,

m yj W?J ITH much diffidence this little book is laid A h W f before you. It has cost me considerable effort SOTj and thought, yet it but feebly represents the 2* progress and prosperity of my work, and very K unworthily records the faithfulness and love of r - our gracious God. I have earnestly tried to do my best; but the preparation of an Annual Report is the only duty connected with the Book Fund which I find burdensome; and were it not that I hope the work will bear the precious fruit of “glory to God,” I could not have attempted it. Last year there was no question about the matter, for extreme ill- health and weakness had brought me very low: but during the last few months the Lord has dealt so gently with me, and given me such happy -cessation of suffering, that I want to devote the first efforts of partially-renewed strength to the humble and grateful fulfilment of this duty. The Report for 1878 was written by a kind friend who willingly and ably supplied my lack of service, and my hearty thanks are now rendered to him for assistance given in a time of much sorrow and need. Very soon after this good friend had accomplished his task,

I began to wonder how the present year would be provided for: the months roll by so quickly, that no sooner is one record given than it seems time to think about another. Musing one day on this matter, a “happy thought” suggested itself — that, as often as opportunity presented, I should gather material for future use by jotting down, somewhat in diary-form, any subject of interest or thanksgiving pertaining to my work, and so present to my friends a Report, perhaps novel in character, but less difficult for me thus to produce, and, I hope, not more unpleasant to them to peruse.

In the following pages, therefore, I have endeavoured to give frequent details of the special service which the Lord has entrusted to my care, noting down any particularly interesting incident, recording some memorable mercies, and preserving much pleasant correspondence.

Here and there the reader will find, intermingled with bond fide book-work, a few domestic and more private experiences, which would insinuate themselves into the little history, and which, seeing that the dear home-life and the Book Fund are so tenderly “joined together” by the Lord’s good pleasure, I had not the heart or the wish to “put asunder.”

Imperfectly as I have worked out the idea which in tjie first instance possessed me, I yet hope the perusal of this little book will interest my friends still further in the work they, by their kindly gifts, are sharing with me. If ini any degree it helps them more clearly to perceive that ini this sweet ministry I am acting for them, being truly and gladly their “servant for Christ’s sake;” that the joy, and delight, and reward are not all for me only, but are shared by them most fully, while all the “glory” is given- to our faithful God: then my difficult task will not have b£en undertaken in vain, nor shall I regret that I tried to put on record some of the “goodness and mercy which followed me during the year eighteen hundred and seventy-nine.

Nightingale-lane,

Balham.

Susie Spurgeon.
jkcorli of 3Sooft JFuni OTtorft.

In 1880 the Book Fund enters upon the fifth year of its existence. Very many of the old friends, who saw its formation, have lovingly watched its advance, and generously contributed to its increase; they are as well acquainted with its aims and ambitions as with its origin; but for the sake of the new friends who may be led to sympathize with me in the endeavour to help “poor bookless ministers,” •I will give a brief account of the nature of the work which has become so dear to many hearts.

, The Book Fund makes grants to “poor Pastors of every evangelical denomination, who are in actual charge, wholly devoted to the ministry, and whose income from all sources ;does not exceed ^150 per annum.”

These grants consist of seven or eight volumes, and usually comprise “The Treasury of David,” or some of Mr. Spurgeon’s “Sermons” — not to the exclusion of other books, but chiefly because they are the works most sought after by applicants to the Fund — and, I am not afraid or ashamed to say it, because I know I could not, with the slender means at my command, give any more precious or more helpful. Seldom are requests made for other authors, nor do I profess to supply them; but when opportunity offers I gladly make the addition of new and standard works to my stock. There are several special books for ministers which I would at once add to my list if friends who wish for their circulation would supply me with the means.

. It is sad to know that the limit of ^150 in income gives me as wide a field as I can compass for the bestowal of these coveted blessings. Poor ministers are the rule, not the exception; they are not restricted to the Baptist denomination, nor to our own land, but abound in every connexion, and in all climes — their needs are very urgent, their prospects seldom brighten, and their ranks never seem to thin; my work for them is as great a necessity now as it was at its commencement, nay, I think its importance has increasedwith its extension, the latent thirst for knowledge has been

developed by its gifts, and a keener appetite for mental food has been produced by the provision it has furnished. I need not enlarge on the absolute necessity which exists for a minister to possess books if he would be an efficient teacher and preacher — the mind which is itself not fed, cannot very long feed others; but I would point out the impossibility of procuring these essential helps and appliances, when a man has to provide for himself and a wife and family on a pittance of ;£6o, ;£8o, or ;£ioo per annum.

To such weary “workers with a slender apparatus” my Book Fund stretches forth a helping hand: it fills the empty basket with tools, gives a key to a well-stocked storehouse, replenishes an exhausted brain, supplies ammunition for the combat with evil, makes sunshine in shady places, and by God’s own blessing does a vast amount of good wherever its gifts are scattered.

It is the joy of my life thus to serve the servants of my Master, and the daily blessings and tender providences which surround my work are more precious to me than words can express. “Some of the subjects of my thankfulness may seem small and inconsiderable to others, but to me they are of constant interest and importance”; my retired life shuts out the usual pleasures of social intercourse, but opens wide a world of glad delight in thus “ministering to the necessities of the saints.” I have scores of friends with whose circumstances I am intimately acquainted, yet whose faces I have never looked upon. I hope to know and greet them on the “other shore”; and, meanwhile, their love and prayers are a sweet reward for such pleasant service as the Lord enables me to render to them. In these pages will be found some of the expressive outpourings of grateful hearts, and though the letters here given form but a small portion of the great mass of affectionate correspondence connected with the Fund, they will serve to reveal some of the daily comfort and encouragement I receive through this channel. Ah! if by His grace w<e can but win from our Master the approving words, “Ye did it unto me,” the joy of service is then only “a little lower” than the supreme felicity of heaven!

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January. — Two years since, a few thoughtful, kindly friends proposed a regular distribution of The Sword and the Trowel magazine to a certain number of poor country ministers who could not afford to take it in, and they generously forwarded donations for this special purpose. I find written in the Report for that year that “the prospect of this indulgence has greatly cheered many hearts,” and that one to whom the offer was made, remarked, “I have not been able to take in a religious periodical for five years; the monthly visit of the magazine will, indeed, be a great boon.” The new work then commenced has been continued, but not increased, though there can be no doubt as to its value and good influence, and I regret that it only comes to my hands as a divergence from the main business which fills my heart. All my time and strength are given to what I feel to be the more urgent work of furnishing empty bookshelves, and the profit and pleasure which would undoubtedly arise from a well-ordered monthly distribution of religious literature by the Book Fund is but partially developed on this account. We must hope for better things by-and-by; meanwhile, I believe that those Pastors now receiving the magazine are greatly pleased and delighted with their visitor, and I hope not only to retain all the names at present on my list, but during the year to add to their number.

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A curious little incident happened lately during a time of prolonged sickness. At the close of a very dark and gloomy day I lay resting on my couch as the deeper night drew on, and though all was bright within my cosy little room, some of the external darkness seemed to have entered into my soul, and obscured its spiritual vision. Vainly I tried to see the hand which I knew held mine, and guided my fogenveloped feet along a steep and slippery path of suffering. In sorrow of heart I asked, “Why does my Lord thus deal

with His child? Why does He so often send sharp and bitter pain to Visit me? Why does He permit lingering weakness to hinder the sweet service I long to render to His poor servants?” These fretful questions were quickly answered, and though in a strange language, no interpreter was needed, save the conscious whisper of my own heart. For a while silence reigned in the little room, broken only by the crackling of the oak log burning on the hearth. Suddenly I heard a sweet soft sound, a little, clear, musical note, like the tender trill of a robin, beneath my window.

What can that be? 99 I said to my companion, who was dozing in the firelight; “surely no bird can be singing out there at this time of the year and night!” We listened, knd again heard the faint plaintive notes, so sweet, so melodious, yet mysterious enough to provoke for a moment our undisguised wonder. Presently my friend exclaimed.

It comes from the log on the fire!” and we soon ascertained that her surprised assertion was correct. The fire was letting loose the imprisoned music from the old oak’s inmost heart 1 Perchance he had garnered up this song in the days when all went well with him, when birds twittered merrily on his branches, and the soft sunlight flecked his tender leaves with gold; but he had grown old since then, and hardened; ring after ring of knotty growth had sealed up the long-forgotten melody, until the fierce tongues of the flames came to consume his callousness, and the vehement heat of the fire wrung from him at once a song and a sacrifice. Ah! thought I, when the fire of affliction draws songs of praise from us, then, indeed, are we purified, and our God is glorified! Perhaps some of us are like this old oak log — cold, hard, and insensible; we should give forth no melodious sounds were it not for the fire, which kindles round us, and releases tender notes of trust in Him, and cheerful compliance with His will! “As I mused, the fire burned,” and my soul found sweet comfort in the parable so strangely set forth before me! Singing in the fire! Yes! God helping us, if that is the only way to get harmony out of these hard, apathetic hearts, let the furnace be heated seven times hotter than before.

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In the Service of th& ‘Bodk Fund.

How opportune and precious is the following letter: —

My dear Mrs. Spurgeon, — I have been much concerned to find from The Sword and the Trowel that you, as well as your dear husband, have been again brought into great suffering, and I am constrained to say how deeply, and affectionately I sympathize with you and him in these repeated afflictions, and how earnestly I pray that both of you may enjoy to the full the supports of divine grace. I do not know you personally, but that need not forbid my writing to you such, a note as this; for we are one in Christy and one member of His body cannot suffer without other members suffering along with it. Besides which, you were wonderfully kind to me a year ago in that gift of books, which I have so greatly prized, and for which I have been, and shall continue to be, so deeply grateful. Those four volumes of “The Treasury of David,” how helpful have they been to me in many ways, and with what relish do I always turn to them! They are excellent reading, not only when I want thoughts for the pulpit, but also when I want my own spiritual life to be quickened and cheered. What a wonderful man God has made Mr. Spurgeon to be! Well may we pray that his life may be spared, and that his heart and brain and tongue and fingers may keep the fine rich power with which grace has endowed them.

- My sympathy with you and with him is the keener just now by reason of a heavy domestic affliction through which I. am passing.... Do not take the trouble to acknowledge this letter. I only wanted to let you know how one to whom you have been kind is sympathizing with you, and praying for you and yours.

February. — A quaint message comes to me to-day across the sea from Africa. It stirs pleasant memories, and well fulfils the loving commission given to it to encourage and strengthen my heart. Thus it runs: “Tell dear Mrs. Spurgeon to keep inching along, Jesus Christ ’ll come by-and-by.”

I must explain the nature of this uncommon communication, and why it so interests and touches me. When our two coloured brethren, Messrs. Johnson and Richardson, were on the eve of departure for missionary work in Africa, they came with their wives to our dear home to bid us farewell. A very pleasant and memorable time we spent together, their Pastor encouraging them in the work to which they had devoted their lives, and their love and sympathy overflowing to him and to me (then very sick), in return. At the request of my dear husband they sang to me some of the strange, sweet songs of their captivity, for

they had once been slaves; and all who heard these plaintive melodies sung in the Tabernacle at their farewell meetings will agree with me that sweeter, yet sadder melodies could scarcely be imagined. My heart was especially attracted by a peculiar air, to which they sang as a refrain these most curious words: —

“Keep inching along, keep inching along
Like a poor inch worm, —

Jesus Christ ‘ll come by-and-by.”

It is impossible to describe the weird pathos with which they invested these few sentences, and my interest was so aroused that I asked if some special history attached to this strange song. Then they told me how in the sorrowful days of their bondage they would stealthily gather together, night after night, in one of the low miserable huts they called their home, and sitting crouched on the floor, hand clasped, in hand, in darkness and terror, they would pray with one another, and in muffled tones would whisper this very song. Sing it aloud they dared not, for fear of their master, who would have exacted full payment by stripes for such an assertion of nature’s rights; but rocking to and fro in time to the wailing melody, they found a “fearful pleasure” in the disobedience which brought spiritual comfort to their oppressed souls.

The glorious hope of future deliverance excited and enraptured their hearts. “Sometimes,” they said, “one of our number would forget the caution and silence so essential to our safety; and a voice would ring out in the darkness, jubilant and clear, ‘Jesus Christ ‘ll come by-and-by!’” Then all would sit trembling after such an outburst, lest they should be discovered by the shout of anticipated triumph, and angels might have wept for the poor, down-trodden souls, and have longed to bring the sweet chariot, “coming for to carry them home.”

“Will you sing to me in whispers as you sang then?” I asked, and they very sweetly complied with my wish, though, blessed be God, their surroundings were now so happy that they could give but a faint copy of the terrible reality. I shall never forget that pitiful hushing of their voices. There was not a dry eye in the little company when the song was ended; but we wiped our tears away, soon remembering that the cause for sorrow no longer existed. The “poor inch worms” are now free, noble, educated men and women; they can sing, and pray, and preach as loudly and as long as they please, and are bound for the land of their fathers, with the intention of exercising these privileges to the full, and making known the gospel of the grace of God to their kindred according to the flesh. The Lord go forth with them and prosper them.

The echoes of that singular song have lingered with me ever since, and many a time have they comforted my heart. Day by day the work of the Book Fund has “kept inching along,” and though prevented by my weakness from taking giant strides, how gracious is the Lord to allow His unworthy child to creep even inch by inch along the pleasant road of service for Him! I should like to send forth fifty parcels weekly — I should like each parcel to be a complete library of theological lore, so that very soon not a true minister in the land should faint and fail for lack of knowledge; but as my highest aims cannot be fulfilled, I will thankfully and joyfully do what I can, and with the Lord’s blessing resting on the books sent out in His name, my ten to twenty packages a week will not fail to accomplish His good purpose. Thus, cheerfully, gladly, I “keep inching along,” and for me, as surely as for the greatest saint on earth — “Jesus Christ ’ll come by-and-by.”

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March,. — It is not unworthy of record that a minister of the Society of Friends has sought and obtained the free gift of “The Treasury of David.” This is so far the only instance where the help of the Fund has been given to one of that body of Christians, though many Moravians, and brethren of various names, have eagerly accepted my gift of books. In acknowledging the receipt of the parcel, he says, in the pretty, quaint Quaker style: —

“Susie Spurgeon,” — My dear kind friend, — Thy note and the parcel came all right. I am much interested in thy work, and do hope the blessing of the Lord will rest upon it. I should be glad of time to say

Ten Years cf my life.

how I have enjoyed the prospect of a feast over this “Treasury”; but I have only a moment to write, and must simply say how truly obliged I am, and how much I reciprocate the kind wishes expressed in thy note. When I have looked over this gift in my western home, I may send a: line. Kind love to thyself and thy husband, Thy obliged friend,

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April. — At the time of the Annual Conference of the Pastors’ College the Book Fund usually prepares a little present for the three hundred Pastors who then assemble. This is meant to be both a memorial of a happy gathering, and a pledge of continued interest in their welfare. This year, after due consideration, I have decided to give Miss Havergal’s “Royal” books (two to each pastor) as a choice and dainty morsel for their spiritual refreshment and quickening. No commendation is needed to ensure a hearty welcome to a work by this devoted lady. Miss Havergal’s pen is guided by a hand fast clasped in that of her Master, and therefore her simple words thrill to the inmost depths of the soul, and touch many a hidden spring of tender, deep, religious feeling. I anticipate not only the pleasure with which our “old students” will receive these delightful little books at my hands; but the abundant blessing they may bring to their hearts and homes. Through the kindness of Messrs. Nisbet, the publishers, I have been able to purchase a thousand copies, and having made it a matter of special prayer that not one of these precious seeds should be unfruitful, I shall hopefully and patiently await the result.

* * * *

To ministers who are not quite so necessitous as those for whom the Book Fund was specially founded, yet who can ill spare the published price of “The Treasury of David,” or the “Sermons,” I offer these books at a somewhat reduced xate, and I have much satisfaction in knowing that the privilege is warmly appreciated. The following letters are fair samples of the spirit in which the favour is sought, and the warm gratitude evoked by its accordance: —

My dear Mrs. Spurgeon, — In the libraries of my friends I have very frequently perused that most choice and savoury work of your husband.

In the Service of the Booh Fund “The Treasury of David”; and if I have not actually incurred the guilt of breaking the tenth commandment, I fear I have come near to doing so, and from time to time I have been looking how I could contrive to purchase it; but have found as often that my income has been forestalled by family and other claims. I have long known that you have been doing a most valuable work for the Master, by helping poor Pastors to some good books; but hitherto I have not ventured to write lest I should be standing in the way of some brother more necessitous even than myself. This week, however, I was in the library of one of my brethren, and again looking over some parts of “The Treasury,” the desire to possess it for myself returned with such strength that I felt somewhat as I suppose a hungry ox would feel, tethered outside, but just in sight of, a luxuriant field of clover! After ruminating over the matter again and again, I came to the conclusion that I could manage part of the price, so I have determined to say to you that I should esteem it a great favour indeed to receive a copy from your hands, if I shall not stand too much in the way of some other poor brother.

It was, indeed, a great joy to open the gate of the clover field l May the good brother “go in and out and find pasture.”

* *

There is also a goodly number of workers for the Lord, evangelists, local preachers and others, who, having no pastorate, are ineligible for the free gift of “The Treasury,” yet covet earnestly this precious aid in their work; these, many of them, save up a little money, and sending it to me by degrees, have in time the joy of receiving the longed-for treasure, which, doubtless, they value none the less for the self-denial which has procured it I often regret that I cannot give books to all Christian workers; but a strict boundary line is absolutely necessary in a work carried on, not by a “Society,” but by one pair of hands, and those not over strong or capable.

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May. — There are some friends of the Book Fund who take great pleasure in sending nice new articles of clothing to be placed in the minister’s parcel of books as a glad surprise to his wife or children, and much gratification and comfort have resulted from this thoughtful kindness. A lady in Scotland regularly supplies me with soft woollen shawls for this purpose, and I have recently received from

another loving hand useful dress pieces, which will prove a great boon to the weary wives and mothers whose unselfish love forbids their attending to their own needs while the little one’s requirements are so urgent. Two lonely widows in the midland counties constantly employ their time in working thus for me, making nice strong under-garments, flannels, &c., and twice a-year sending me a large box, tightly packed with the results of their loving, patient industry. I always feel a little choking sensation in my throat when that box comes, and as we lift out garment after garment, dozens of them,, all well made and neatly folded, my satisfaction is very tenderly blended with sympathy for the two lonely, patient workers, whose fingers must have been so unremittingly active in their self-imposed service. As they sit and sew so assiduously for His servants, may the “God of all consolation” pour balm into their wounded hearts! The reception of one such parcel and enclosure as the above-mentioned is thus described by a worthy pastor: —

I cannot tell you how delighted my dear wife was when she saw a .parcel for her. Do you know the little “s” on the inner address, turning “Mr.” into “Mrs.” made her eyes sparkle with joy. “Why,” she exclaimed, “there’s something for me l Oh, how kind and thoughtful!” And the shawl was a strangely acceptable present, as you will see, when I tell you that last winter I so much needed a large scarf or plaid, such as Scotchmen wear, that Mrs. G. cut her shawl (of the same kind as the one now sent, only a different colour) to make this said wrap, and now, as the winter is upon us, and she requires such a comfort, it comes. How good God is! How kind friends are! The dress material was also received with very much pleasure indeed. Truly, He who clothes the lilies of the field doth not forget His poor servants.

* * * *

June 5. — To-day ^£200 is mine from the great Testimonial Fund, raised last Christmas; ^100 is allotted to the Book Fund, and ;£ioo to the Pastors’ Aid Society. My dear husband’s kindness secures this splendid help to my work, and I bless God both for him and his delightful gift. If “John Ploughman’s” wife might say here what she thinks of “John” in this, and all other matters, it would-be an easy task to fill these pages with his praises; but since such a wifely eulogy might be deemed out of place, Mrs. J. P, may at least record in her little book her hearty and appreciative thanks to the hundreds of true friends who have lately done honour to the “Prince of her life,” * and furnished him with the means of more abundantly blessing all the poor and needy ones who look to him as their best earthly friend and comforter. If I knew anyone who doubted the truth of that Scripture, “There is that scattered and yet increased,” I could bring no more unanswerable proof of its veracity than is found in the unselfish life and loving deeds of the God-honoured man I reverence as my head and husband. I find a graceful appropriateness in the gift of part of this money to Baptist Pastors, seeing that to one of themselves the whole magnificent sum is offered as a tribute of devoted admiration and love. What a joy it will be to use this consecrated gold in their service! What heavy burdens it will lift! What aching hearts will be consoled! What praise to God will be given by joyful lips! When I think of all it will do, I wish it were ten times as much I I get greedy for their sakes — my poor, weary, toiling brethren — but that only lasts a moment, for indeed I am most fully “satisfied with favour” on their behalf, both from the Lord and from man.

* * * *

June 27. — We had a very pleasant visit to-day from the Bishop of Sierra Leone. The story of the Book Fund work had reached him far away in Africa, and he came to solicit the gift of “The Treasury of David” for one of his coloured Pastors. After some gracious and profitable talk with the master of the house, and a turn round the garden, the good bishop accepted the promise not only of “The Treasury,” but also some other books, for the workers in Africa. It is noteworthy that the Lord is now constantly giving me opportunities of spreading the good old doctrines of grace in foreign lands, through the distribution of books; this year much seed com has been thus scattered, and we may look hopefully for the harvest. Before he left us Bishop Cheetham enrolled his name as a subscriber to the Book Fund, and I hope he carried away with him, in addition to the

* Name for Mr. Spurgeon suggested by a Welshman.

So

promise of books, some pleasant memories of his visit to Nightingale Lane.

Following on the above pleasant incident comes the subjoined loving testimony to the worth of “The Treasury of David” from a vicar in the Midland Counties: —

Allow me, as an aged minister of the Church of England, to express my deep sense of gratitude to God (as I have often done upon my knees) for putting it into the heart of your husband to compile such a work for the people of God — a book which will minister instruction to generations yet to come, and gather many harpers to stand before the Throne, and sing the praises of Jehovah Jesus.

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How sudden and unexpected is the announcement that Miss Havergal has “passed from earth to Heaven!” And yet, had not our eyes and ears been dulled by worldly words and visions, we might have seen the light of the Celestial City shining on her footsteps, and have heard a note or two of heavenly music in her angelic songs. It could be most truly said of her that “her heart was with Him on His throne,” and so sweet a singer could not tarry long away from the place “where all his singers meet.” We all mourn as for a friend greatly beloved, for those of us to whom she was personally a stranger had made close and tender acquaintance with her through her precious little books. None can read her rapturous and touching words concerning her “King” and “Master” without feeling glad that. He “exceedeth the fame which she heard,” and rejoicing in the unutterable bliss which she will for ever enjoy in His presence. Those of her writings which have been published since her decease are full of grace and power; but the wonderful little work on “Consecration” * is her swan-like death song, the sweetest and best of all. I intend, as long as I can afford it, to put this pearl of books, as an extrti, blessing, into every parcel I send out from the Book Fund, and may the Lord grant that through its sweet influence many may be led to consecrate body, soul, and spirit anew to His service and His cause!

* “Kept for the Master’s Use,” by the late F. R. H. Messrs. Nisbet and Co.

July 19. — These times of depression and disaster tell heavily on my poor friends the Pastors of country churches.

“Burdens grievous to be borne” seem laid on their hearts and lives, and with the universal social troubles, personal trials come in sad fellowship of suffering. Sickness, and consequent doctors’ bills, are heavy items in the sum of misery, and even those who do their best to “provide things honest in the sight of all men” are just now bowed to the very earth by the terrible pressure of obligations which they are powerless to avoid, and are equally unable to fulfil I have had some appeals lately which reveal a state of things among our country Pastors greatly to be deplored, and though immediate relief was given, the problem of permanent amendment is still left unsolved. How is a man (and that man a minister) to house, and feed, and clothe himself, his wife, and a varying, I was on the point of writing “unlimited,” number of children on £80 a year? I know scores who are trying to do it, but can we blame them if they fail? “I have had but one new suit for the last nine years,” writes one who knows what Paul meant by “enduring hardness.” How can the good man spare £4 or £$ for orthodox broadcloth when meat graces the table but once or twice a week, and the children’s clothes are almost too shabby for them to wear in the House of God? I heard of a good man the other day, who is thankfully wearing in the pulpit a second-hand coat of dark bottle-green, the gift of some commiserating friend, who noticed the pitiful seediness of his best suit. I do not suppose that his sermons are deteriorated by the mere fact that he wears a bottle-green garment; but I do think that the man himself would be vastly bettered, and helped to a modest share of self-respect, if he had becoming apparel in which “to minister in, holy things.” Is it any wonder if sometimes the “cares of this world” choke and cramp the spiritual energies of poor needy Pastors? “We have had a dull enough sermon this morning,” says a hearer who has all that heart can wish for; “what can have come to our minister to make him so listless and uninteresting?” If that good brother were to try the effect of a little loving help and sympathy (a £$ note, for instance, delicately and tenderly given), he would see a Ten Years of my Life

wonderful lifting and lightening of the clouds and darkness which encompass his pastor’s spirit, and be quite surprised at the life and energy infused into his next discourse. “My people do all they can for me,” many a distressed pastor writes, and it may be so in some cases; but I question whether in the Master’s presence they would themselves dare to say this; for He still “sits over against the treasury,” and must note how little even of “their abundance” His people cast in for His servants and His cause. “It is a tale often told to you, I imagine, by such as myself, whose incomes are so pitifully small,” wrote a minister the other day, “that to buy books, when there are little hungry mouths and wistful faces at the table daily is an impossibility.” The good man has deeply underlined this last word, and well he may, for his church only raises £ 2 po a year for him, while a grant from the Augmentation Fund barely rescues them from absolute need. Ah! some of us who can not only “make both ends meet,” but “have enough over to tie a bow and ends,” can scarcely realize the toiling and striving, the anguish of longing, which must tear at the hearts of a poor pastor and his wife, as they try to eke out the scanty store of coin, and make one shilling do the duty of a score! “My wife sends you her heartfelt thanks,” says one of “our own” men; “she says you cannot know what good you are doing, or how much you gladden the hearts of poor Pastors’ wives, though you cannot feel as they feel, for you have never been in the same position.”

No, not quite, yet I can tenderly sympathize with them; for well do we remember, in the early days of our married life, a time, nay, many times, when “God’s Providence was our inheritance,” and our mouths were “filled with laughter, and our lips with singing,” by the signal deliverances He afforded us when means were straitened, and the coffers, both of college and household, were well-nigh empty.

* * * *

August 4. — Interesting and welcome letters are so abundant that the difficulty is how to make a wise choice from amongst them. To-day I am delighted to receive from a Primitive Methodist minister a request to be allowed to purchase the whole set of Mr. Spurgeon’s “Sermons.” “I feel it an effort,” he says; “but myself and wife do not think we could spend money in anything that would impart a more healthful impulse to our spiritual life, or prompt us to greater zeal in God’s service.” This has greatly pleased me; and in sending the precious parcel to this good brother, I intend it to contain more than the twenty-four volumes he has paid for. What a pleasure it would be to see him unpack his treasure, and watch the tender, reverent handling the books will be sure to receive when he releases them from their wrappings! When a man dearly loves books, it is a treat to see him in his library, and mark his intimacy with them, the peculiar touch he gives them, and the certain knowledge he has of the whereabouts of any one of them! My love for the Book Fund work is frequently stimulated by noting the tender regard my husband has for his books, and the constant and patient use he makes of them; and a glance at the well-filled shelves at home sets my heart a-longing to introduce like blessings into the scantily-furnished studies of our needy brethren.

% * * *

August 14. — Though in these bad times there is not much money coming in for the Book Fund, the supplies have not by any means failed; there is just enough to show that the Lord has not ceased to care for it, and does not mean it to fall to the ground, and yet little enough to make me ask earnestly at His Treasury for more. I feel much encouraged by the steadfast kindness of some dear friends, who seem to have enrolled themselves as monthly, quarterly, or annual subscribers, and so send me constant and regular help. This is manifestly of the Lord; He has thus inclined their hearts to remember my work; for I never ask except from Him, and no articles in The Sword and the Trowel this year have brought the Book Fund prominently into notice. More distinctly and blessedly than ever, therefore, the Lord has been my helper, and from His hand have proceeded the stores which have relieved and refreshed His servants.

* *

How constantly have I wished and prayed that the brief records given from time to time of the Lord’s gracious dealings with me in my small service for Him might help some fainting heart to trust Him more and love Him better! The following letter comes like a breath from the land of fulfilled desire, and rekindles my fervent longing to give to my generous God the glory due unto His name: —

Dear Mrs. Spurgeon, — Since my first letter to you on the subject of your kind presentation of books to my locals and myself, I have been re-reading your various messages in The Sword and the Trowel concerning the Book Fund. Its history has cheered me much, and strengthened my unaccountably weak faith in a Father who can send hundreds of pounds as easily as He can produce a lemon plant, and who is as able to do it for one of His children as for another. I am going to try to obtain more faith (and I know I must trust Him even for that), and so attempt a greater work of soul-conversion than I had ever supposed could have been done through me. Oh! to believe that Jesus can use any tool, so skilled a workman is He! I passed over to my friends last evening your gift of “Lectures to my Students.” They were very pleased, and. in prayer earnestly thanked God, and besought Him to bless you yet more and more. You may be sure that they asked the choicest blessings they could think of, and I doubt not that choicer ones were already in the store-house of grace, packed up to send you, waiting there in their rich fulness, “blaming the shallowness of our request.” As for your very kind present to me, I know not how to thank you. But I will try to use it well, and do pray that each volume may be, by the Holy Spirit’s power, made useful in winning some souls to Christ, and drawing them into close communion with their Friend. Please accept my hearty thanks, and my earnest wishes for your exceeding joy and gladness, and also my prayers for the health of our beloved President.

% * * *

I have been very pleased during this year to see my work extend among the poorly-paid curates of the Church of England, and I trust a great blessing will follow the introduction into their libraries of such books as “The Treasury,” the “Sermons,” and “Lectures to my Students.” These gifts are sought with avidity, and welcomed with eager joy; and of all the pleasant letters which I receive, none are more courteous in spirit, or graceful in language, than those penned by clergymen of the Established Church.

Two years ago, writes one, you presented me with “The Treasury of David,” expressing a wish that it might prove a “treasure” indeed. Your wish has been more than gratified, and now I have an acute appetite for the whole of your respected husband’s works. I have the privilege of preaching the gospel five times every week, and if this is to continue to be a pleasure to me, I must keep my soul and mind well fed. Being still “a poor curate” I have to supply my wants on the lowest terms, so I write to ask whether in gratifying my ardent desire, any assistance may be obtained from that source of benevolence which formerly supplied “The Treasury of David.”

My readers will be rejoiced to learn that with some little help from the Book Fund, this clergyman has now on his shelves a complete set of the “Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit,” in addition to “The Treasury of David,” and some smaller works of Mr. Spurgeon’s.

* * * *

August 2 6. — Here is a sad tale of woe from a Wesleyan minister in Ireland: —

There is no book I am more anxious to secure than “The Treasury of David,” yet I am not able to purchase it. Trade is so bad here that our town is an exception in the north of Ireland for poverty. We cannot clear many pounds a year towards a minister’s support. Many hand-loom weavers are working twelve hours a day for less than five shillings a-week! We have help on this station from our Missionary Society in England; but notwithstanding this, we can only move on in these depressing times by the self-sacrifice of the minister; and buying books is out of the question. I have no private means, and I am neither able, on the one hand, to get my salary, nor yet am I disposed on the other to leave these poor people, I feel just in a position which would enable me to appreciate the possession of “The Treasury of David.”

* * * *

I have been able to send a fair share of help to Pastors in Ireland. We have not many Baptists there, but our Wesleyan brethren bear the full brunt of hard work and poverty. That they know how to appreciate a gift of books the following letter from one of their number will amply prove: —

I have been wondering how it might be possible for me to express what I feel of gratitude. I cannot imagine. But I am confident that no thanks could convey to yourself or Mr. Spurgeon a tithe of the sweetness contained in the reflection that the loaves and fishes, blessed and broken by our Lord Himself, by Him handed to His disciples, and by them to the multitude, are being made the bread of life in very deed and truth to thousands who otherwise would faint and perish by the way, but who by means of this distribution are enabled to reach and feed upon that bread “whereof if a man eat he shall never die.”

Oct 2. — Committed to the faithful keeping of his father’s God, our precious son sails to-day for his second visit to Australia. The cold and damp of our English winter made us fear for his somewhat delicate constitution, and if it be the Lord’s will, the more genial climate of the colonies may develop strength and power to prosecute that which, we trust, will be his life-work — to preach to poor sinners the “unsearchable riches of Christ” Give the winds and the waves charge concerning him, O Lord! Let them waft him safely to his desired haven, and then do Thou guide him all his journey through, till both he and all who hold him dear shall meet to part no more!

I am glad to say that the Book Fund is not altogether unrepresented in the cargo which the good ship carries, though if I had possessed the means it should have been much heavier; for in Australia, as in other distant lands, books are vastly more expensive than in England, and more difficult to procure. The book-hunger of our most needy ministers at home may be as keen and absorbing as the appetite of a colonial pastor; but the former has many more chances of ultimately appeasing it, while hope gives him strength to endure and to wait In the bush, or in outlying districts, where there may be little intellectual life, a man must depend very largely on his bookshelves for friendship and communion, and when these fail him, or prove uncongenial, he is very sincerely to be pitied, and ought to be helped. I should often send books to the colonies if the Fund could bear the heavy expense of freightage; but awaiting the kind services of friends to take charge of the parcels is so slow a method of transit, that practically my grants are few and far between. To the abundant affection which the generous people on the other side of the world showed our dear son on his first visit they added this kindness, that they have once and again helped, not only his father’s many “works of faith and labours of love,” but his mother’s Book Fund; and now that he goes to seek once more health in their beautiful country, she would like him to carry a great blessing back to them. Father and mother both fervently pray that his life there may be a devoted and consecrated one, and that “power from on high” may be given him to win many jewels for the Master’s crown.

Oct. 4. — Truly, this has been a “red-letter day” in Book Fund experience. My heart praises and extols the goodness of the Lord, and my hand shall at once record the mercy which, like a blessed rain on a thirsty land, has so sweetly refreshed my spirit. This afternoon a constant and generous friend brought ^100 for the Book Fund. This was cause for devout thankfulness and great joy; for lately an unusually large number of books has been going out week by week, though funds have flowed in less freely. But it was not till a few hours after receiving this noble donation that I saw fully the Lord’s tender care and pitying love in sending me this help just when he knew I should most sorely need it. By the late post that night came my quarterly account for books, and so heavy was it, that in fear and haste I turned to my ledger to see the available balance, and with an emotion I shall not easily forget, I found that, but for the gift of ^100 a few hours previously, I should have been ^60 in debt!

Did not the Father’s care thus keep the sparrow from falling to the ground? A sleepless night, and much distress of spirit, would have resulted from my discovery of so serious a deficit in my funds; but the Lord’s watchful love prevented this. “Before I called He answered,” and though trouble was not very distant, He had said, “It shall not come nigh thee.” O my soul, bless thou the Lord, and forget not this His loving “benefit”! A tumult of joy and delight arose within me as I saw in this incident, not a mere chance, or a happy combination of circumstances, but the guiding and sustaining hand of the loving Lord, who had most certainly arranged and ordered for me this pleasant way of comfort and relief.” I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me.” A fresh revelation of His wonderful love seemed to be vouchsafed to my soul by this opportune blessing, and a cheque became “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” I hastened to my dear husband that he might share my joy, and I found in him a willing listener to the sweet “old story” of his Master’s grace and power. Then, after a word or two of fervent praise to God on my behalf, he wrote the following letter

to the friend by whose liberal hand our gracious God had sent this notable deliverance: —

Dear Friend, — I should like you to know why you were sent here this afternoon, and what an angel of mercy you were to my dear wife, and so to me. The Lord bless you. Soon after you were gone, my wife’s quarter’s bill for books came in for ^340, and she had only ^280 apart from your cheque. Poor soul! she has never spent more than her income before; and if you had not come, I fear it would have crushed her to be ;£6o in debt. How good of the Lord to send you in the nick of time! We joined our praises together, and we do also very gratefully join our prayers for you. God bless you, and make up to you your generous gifts above all your own desires. I could not refrain from telling you this; it is one of the sparkling facts which will make happy memories to help to stay our faith in future trials, if they come. Again, God bless you.

Yours heartily, C. H. Spurgeon.

* *

October 11. — ^20 from a new friend to-day! My heart keeps whispering —

“Indulgent God, how kind!”

At the beginning of this week I had hesitated about sending my usual order for books, having less in hand than would justify a large increase of stock; but I ventured, and lo! the Lord has sent me all I need for present wants, and with it a firm assurance to my soul that M those who trust in Him shall never be ashamed.” That ^100 a week ago has brought blessings in its train; it has strengthened both heart and hands, and made the work go on with sacred mirth and joyful song. Truly, it is blessed to “wait upon the Lord,” and gracious is the condescension with which He listens to our feeblest cry. I was greatly cheered the other day by a few words I read in the late James Hamilton’s “Lectures on Prayer.” He says: —

Learn to ask God’s blessing on little things as well as great. There is nothing which it is right for us to do, but what it is also right to ask that God would bless it; and, indeed, there is nothing so little but the frown of God can convert it into the most sad calamity, or His smile exalt it into a most memorable mercy; and there is nothing we can do, but its complexion for weal or woe depends entirely on what the Lord will make it.

In the Service of the Booh Fund.

October 15. — Loving, grateful letters have been my daily “Morning Portion” lately, and only my own heart knows how I feast on the encouragement which they give. I so deeply rejoice in the joy of my poor Pastors, that I am sure my happiness must outweigh theirs! Yet sometimes they tell me they have hesitated for months before asking! Verily, they need not; for to place a few valuable works on their empty shelves is a source of inexpressible gladness. What a surprise, too, some of them get! “I thought,”

writes a good brother this morning, “that I might count upon one, or perhaps two, volumes of * The Treasury,’ and possibly a volume of “Sermons”; but when I opened the parcel and found five volumes of ‘The Treasury,’ besides the three others, my heart was too full to let me speak.” “When the parcel came,” says another, “I was in bed, suffering from severe pain in the head; I expected only the fifth volume of ‘The Treasury,’ but when I saw the many books, and read your kind note, I forgot my pains, and your kindness did what they had failed to do — it brought tears to my eyes. May our heavenly Father answer your prayers as you have replied to my request, by giving you more than you ask, or even think.”

These are truly “handfuls of purpose” for the dear friends who have given their help to this good work, and it will be hard to stay my hand from giving them: —

My dear Mrs. Spurgeon, — I cannot describe the grateful joy I felt on receiving the post-card yesterday morning, informing me that a parcel of books would be forwarded to my address; and on receipt of the precious parcel itself to-day, I was obliged to shed many grateful tears, “though not to weeping given.” I beg, from the very bottom of my heart, to thank you, dear lady, for your great kindness, and shall not forget to pray that the great Head of the church may abundantly reward yoil for all you have lovingly done, and are doing, to encourage and help so nobly His humble, toiling, and, in some cases, almost broken-hearted servants.

Thus writes another grateful heart: —

Madam, and I must also say, dear Mrs. Spurgeon, and I don’t know what to say next! This is far more than ever I hoped for. I received it as coming from my Master and your Master. He has made you the honoured instrument of “refreshing the bowels of the saints.” May the

Lord return into your bosom sevenfold, nay, seventy times seven. I think I can say, “there is not another vessel” now, — lam full and abound. As to my wife, why, she is singing, and sweetly too — at least, I think so! We shall never forget this great favour: let the right hand forget its cunning first. We may be favoured to help God’s cause some day; if not, God is right, and His ways are just, and His paths drop fatness.

And here I must close for to-day at least, or my gleaners will be weary.

Oct. 28. — As part of the proceeds of his last lecture in London, I have the pleasure of receiving to-day jQ 2 5 as the generous and graceful gift of Mr. John B. Gough to the Book Fund. Such a gift from such a man is precious and noteworthy, but not unusual, as I believe it is the constant habit of Mr. Gough to bestow blessings as well as to recommend them. Long as his name has been honoured in our household, and his special work admired and appreciated, it was not till his recent visit to England that we had the happiness of his personal acquaintance. Now he has been twice to see us, and a friendship has been contracted between us which, though interrupted by absence from each other on earth, will find its true fruition and best enjoyment in heaven. The hours we spent in his company have left frequent memories not only of pleasant mirth at the droll tales so inimitably told, but also of sacred joy in sweet and goodly words which “ministered grace unto the hearers.” Cannot my friends imagine that it was a rare treat to listen to the converse of John Ploughman and John Gough?

No “pen of a ready writer” was there to record the good things they said, or to immortalize the brilliant “table talk” which graced each repast; but the sweet communion which knit our hearts together will never be forgotten by us, and so deep a flood of enjoyment came in upon my usually quiet life that day, that it will for ever ripple pleasantly upon the shores of memory. To our very dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Gough in their far-away home in the West, I send loving greeting; and for this ^25, which means so much joy and comfort for the Lord’s poor servants, I give the warmest thanks of a grateful heart.

9 *

Nov. 1. — Two dear ladies brought me ^50 to use in the Lord’s work as I please. What bountiful kindness, its preciousness enhanced by my necessity! I divided it between the Book Fund and the Pastors’ Aid; for in these times of universal pressure I can scarcely confine my gifts to books in those cases where I know that, though the daily bread is sure, it is often unaccompanied by more substantial nourishment It was only the other day I heard of a minister whose last Christmas dinner was to have consisted of a loaf and steak because he could not afford better fare; and I know many whose most creditable fear of debt compels them not only to keep their book-shelves empty, but the cupboard very bare. One ceases to wonder at the oft-recurring sickness of many ministers’ wives, and the extreme delicacy of their children, when one remembers their many privations, their lack of nourishing food, and their need of suitable clothing. “My income barely enables me to find plain food and scanty clothing for my wife and three children,” writes a country Independent pastor. “Frequently I have saved a few shillings with the view of purchasing a volume of ‘ The Treasury,’ but a pair of shoes or a little dress put the book aside.” In this last matter of clothing for Pastors’ families there is very much now being done by kind friends for their relief. I have elsewhere mentioned the many presents I received for them, and to-day (mercies never come singly) a large chest arrived from Scotland containing the wardrobes of two deceased gentlemen, sent by the desolate wife and mother. It has been a somewhat sad work to allot this valuable gift to seven needy Pastors; but their joy in receiving the good warm clothes will not be damped by any sorrowful remembrances of departed friends, and I rejoice beforehand in their joy.

* *

Nov. 20. — News comes from Africa of the death of Mrs. Johnson, one of the dear souls who sang so sweetly to us before leaving for missionary work there, and who joined in sending the message to me — “keep inching along.” She is now singing the new song, and has full realization of the blessedness of being “for ever with the Lord.” Stricken

by the fatal fever, she has laid down her life in the land of her fathers, without having had time to tell the “sweet story of old” to those for whose sake she bravely dared danger and death. We weep not for her; Jesus has come and taken her to Himself, and her bliss is perfect; but the desolate heart of her husband claims our sympathy and fervent prayers. Encompassed by danger, exposed to scorching heat by day and deadly damps by night, weakened by fever and sorely cast down by the loss of his dearest earthly companion, our poor brother surely needs that we should “speak for him to the King” now in the time of his need and overwhelming distress. One feels that a return message of sympathy to him could scarcely bear a fitter termination than the words which came over the sea to me: —

“Keep inching along, keep inching along,

Jesus Christ *11 come by -and -by.”

December i. — “Keeping watch at home alone.” So says my dear husband in this month’s Sword and Trowel tenderly referring to the loneliness which our enforced separation entails upon me. The pitying words set me thinking, and praying that I might be enabled bravely to fulfil the duty assigned to me. A “watcher” should be vigorous, vigilant, fearless, and faithful. May the Lord confer these virtues on me, strengthening me for the work which devolves on me now the Captain is away, and teaching me, in my weakness, to lean more heavily than ever on the arm of the Beloved. My little Book does not gather much material for record just now, for the days are so filled up with work that no time seems left to jot down quietly any notes of it.

The Pastor’s usual mass of correspondence dwindles most remarkably as soon as his absence from home is fully recognized, but there still remains enough to employ all my time and energy when added to the regular and constant work of the Book Fund. The latter has greatly increased during the past week or two, so that I have had to redouble my efforts to keep pace with the demands on my time and attention, and the close of the day has found me too tired to tell of its varied experiences and duties.

Some days later. — “Keeping watch” now for news from a suffering husband, whose pleasant rest in the sunny south is turned into the sorrowful weariness of a sick bed. All the sweet, gladsome letters which told such charming news of lovely weather, blooming roses, “sea-birds sitting on the waters, forming rings, as if they were ‘ knights of the round table,’ and, as the waves gently ripple, rising and falling like little boats”; and of happy work, done amidst such glorious surroundings that “it seemed like play,” — all this, and oh! so much more that was beautiful, exchanged for brief, sad telegrams, which seem to crush one’s heart with fear lest the short, unsatisfying message should conceal more sorrow than it dare reveal. Now, “patience must have her perfect work,” and comfort comes with the certainty that the Great Physician is there, and will sustain and sanctify, and in due time heal His suffering servant. From hundreds of hearts the cry has already gone up, “Lord, he whom Thou lovest is sick!” May we soon have an answer of peace!

Still later. — Blessed be God! Better news comes now! The telegrams have ceased, and letters written with unsteady pen by poor pained hands, yet inexpressibly precious, have arrived. In this trying time hard work has been a benefactor to me, for the urgency of the daily correspondence admits of no comfortable nursing of grief, and Book Fund management knows no cessation while the Lord sends so many needy applicants. Many sweet letters of sympathy come also and comfort my heart, and the one I here transcribe reached me at so opportune a moment that it was truly like” an apple of gold in a basket of silver”: —

My dear Mrs. Spurgeon, — On three occasions you have sent me a fine parcel of books, and I have written some poor thanks as they have arrived. Now I write again, just to testify to the help they are to me every day. I am almost afraid to write to you, lest you should offer me some more; but please do not do so just now, for I should be afraid to write you again if you did. My dear Mrs. Spurgeon, I so often thank God for me books and for you, and sincerely do I pray that you may be daily helped and strengthened. I have been thinking of you so much “all alone” now that the beloved President is away, and especially since last week’s sermon arrived, with the sad news of his illness. God help him and comfort you too. I trust you will still be

blessed and strengthened in this good work of yours, and at least that it will encourage you to hear that your books are a daily blessing in my study.

®fje pastors’ JFunti

is a branch of the main business, which has naturally developed itself as the work prospered, and some dear friends keep a very warm corner of their hearts, and a very liberal allowance in their purse for it. For this I thank God, and thank them; for sometimes there are cases in which the gift of books would be but a cruel mockery if unaccompanied by other help, rarely asked; but how sorely needed, God and themselves only know. So much has been said on this matter, incidentally, in these pages, that I need dwell no longer on the painful fact of the minister’s poverty, but simply tell how far I have been able to relieve it. This year ^324 2s. has been distributed in money to Pastors in urgent need of pecuniary assistance; and I rejoice to know that these gifts have often blessed the givers as well as the recipients. Nearly all the friends who entrust me with funds for this special purpose receive private information of the allotment of their gifts, and into the suffering life of one dear donor this blessed work of mercy often brings a ray of sacred gladness and joy. In all cases I earnestly seek wisdom to use rightly the great privilege thus accorded to me, and I by no means underrate the responsibility which it entails. Full details of this part of my work are withheld from these pages from motives of tender consideration for the feelings of the recipients; but I must again express my unbounded gratitude to all who during this and previous years have placed so tender a trust in my hands, enabling me to cheer so many hearts, and gladden so many homes. The simple but eloquent words of a letter now lying before me describe the usual happy effect of a gift from this secret store: “You have sent a wave of joy into my house to-day, which will carry me over many desponding moments in the days to come.”

* * * * Coming now to the conclusion of these sadly iiegular chronicles, I should like to promise — if the Lord spare my life, and prosper the Book Fund — to do better next year. The “happy thought,” if it be a happy one, of reporting this little service in “diary -fashion 99 ought to be more satisfactorily carried out, and I hope to gather more discreetly and carefully the material to be used at the close of the year 1880. Experience has taught me that there is sure to be a fulness of goodness and mercy to supply the record; but the same teacher sadly proves to me that the “recorder” fails, and is at fault in not keeping her “book of remembrance 99 well posted up. But what memory can keep pace with God’s mercies? or what uninspired pen can tell the thousandth part of His loving-kindnesses? “If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand.” Could I cull the choicest flowers of language, and bind them in one delightful bundle of thankfulness, it might be an acceptable offering of gratitude to the dear friends who have helped me; but how can I worthily praise and extol the bounty of my gracious, loving God? “Thou hast dealt well with Thy servant, O Lord, according to Thy word.” Blessed be Thy name, Thou hast daily loaded me with benefits; Thy hand has supplied all my need; Thy strength has been made perfect in my weakness. Thy loving care has watched over my work, and “there hath not failed one word of all Thy good promise” “upon which Thou hast caused me to hope.” And what can I say more unto Thee? “Is this the manner of man, O Lord God?” Oh! poor dumb lips, that cannot speak His praise aright! Oh, faltering tongue, that as yet cannot “frame to pronounce” the .syllables of heaven’s own language!

“How shall I praise Him? Seraphs, when they bring The homage of their lyre,

Veil their bright face beneath their wing,

And tremble and retire.

Lost in thy love, yet full of humble trust,

I close my worthless lay,

Bow down the reverent forehead in the dust,

And in meek silence pray. 1 *

Truly there are times when silence is more eloquent than speech, and we are constrained to worship “afar off,” from very awe of His goodness. Such a season comes to me now as I sit pondering over all the Lord’s marvellous lovingkindness. Looking back on the great and manifold mercies of the fast closing year, my spirit is overwhelmed within me, the weight of blessing seems almost too much for me; and I lay aside my poor, useless pen to bow the knee before Him in silent adoration and thanksgiving.

“I am not worthy of the least of all the
mercies, and of all the tquth which $hou hast
showed unto tgh# servant*”

SUMMARY OF WORK,

Books Distributed during the Year 1879: — 8,045 Volumes.

Also 6,941 single Sermons for giving away. The recipients comprised 286 Baptists, 180 Independents, 358 Methodists, 88 Church of England clergymen, 49 Missionaries, 71 Evangelists, and 12 Presbyterians.